


Sacrifice.

by NotTriDom



Series: Nothing We Do is Good [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Incest, M/M, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 07:30:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8135564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotTriDom/pseuds/NotTriDom
Summary: When the Darach begins Sacrificing virgins, Stiles is desperate. When time begins to run out, he and John come to the only choice they can stomach.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I know some of this doesn't stick to canon, so just a warning. Also, if you read this and you don't like parent/child incest, please do not comment. It is tagged, so that's no one's fault but your own if you choose to read a fic that is CONSENSUAL parent/child incest. 
> 
> With all that said, I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY IT!
> 
> Thank you so much [Mysenia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysenia/pseuds/Mysenia) for letting me use this plot bunny! I enjoyed writing it so much. :)

As John pulled into the driveway after his shift, a maroon Tahoe was parked behind Stiles’s Jeep. When he stepped out of his cruiser, the front door came open and Chris Argent came out of his front door with Stiles close behind, holding open the storm door.

“You’re a hunter, you’re supposed to protect-,” Stiles said. He stopped midsentence when he saw John. “Oh. Hey.”

“Oh hey sounds right,” John said, staring at Stiles before he looked at Chris. “What are you doing in my house, alone, with my son?” 

“Ask your kid,” Chris said, glaring at Stiles again. “I have a daughter your age, Stiles. Think about that.”

“Yeah, like I would’ve fucking asked if it wasn’t important, dick,” Stiles said.

“Then how about you ask someone your own age,” Chris said, before he pulled himself into his Tahoe and slammed the door.

As he backed out of the driveway, Stiles watched the SUV before he looked at John. He scraped his teeth over his chapped lips. They started to bleed. His hair was pushed up at all angles. He just couldn’t keep his fingers out of it.

“Are you going to tell me what that was about?”

“I don’t really want to,” Stiles said, stepping back into the house, propping the door enough for John to follow.

“How about you spit it out anyway before I slap him with statutory rape charges?”

The eye roll was so exaggerated John could visualize it through the back of Stiles’s head.

“I’m eighteen and he didn’t do anything,” he said as he continued down the hallway.

“So that wasn’t as sexual as it sounded?”

“It wasn’t-,” Stiles stopped, frowning. “Even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me,” John said. The words of his deputy were still ringing in his head. The man had crept into his office like a kicked dog, like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was. When Stiles only kept biting his lip, John started again. “I know you’ve been asking anyone who will listen to have sex with you. Including my newest deputy, so thank you for that. That was a nice conversation to have. He’s married with two kids, Stiles.”

“I didn’t know that when I asked him.”

“He’s also twice your age. What the fuck are you playing at, kid? Him, Chris Argent, and no telling who else?”  

“Did you ever stop to think that I probably have a good reason?” Stiles asked, his voice raising.

“I’ve asked you repeatedly.”

“No you’re just getting shitty about why I’m doing what I’m doing, not why I’m doing it. Since you don’t seem to fucking care, here’s the reason, that thing I’ve been telling you about, it’s sacrificing virgins. And it’s gotten two, so it needs one more. Who is probably target number one? Maybe the kid that runs around with a fucking werewolf pack? The one that has no magic, no real protection, the only one in the pack that’s still a virgin?”

“Isn’t that a little cliché?” John asked, even knowing it was an asshole thing to say.

“I knew you wouldn’t listen,” he said, turning and going toward the stairs. “Whatever, I’ll call Derek.”

John was surprised that Derek was below Chris Argent and the deputy he recently hired, a man almost Chris’s age. He wasn’t really disappointed though. Before Stiles even told him what Derek was the man had seemed off, predatory. Now it made sense with the werewolf secret out, but he still didn’t want him within ten feet of Stiles, let alone touching him, in private, where no one could step in if things went wrong.

“How about someone who hasn’t been accused of murder?”

“You know he didn’t kill anyone,” Stiles said, pulling his phone out of his jean pocket. John took it out of his hand.

“You can’t just have sex with someone for the first time over this.”

“Over possibly being killed?” Stiles asked. “This thing has killed two people, Dad!”

“Says who?”

“Everyone who knows anything about,” Stiles yelled. “Two teenagers are dead, you know that, _sheriff_. And what do they both have in common? Both of them were in the abstinence group.”

“Then maybe they’re going after abstinence participants,” John said. Stiles just stared at him, like he was being overly stupid before John shrugged. “I don’t want you to base decisions you’ll remember forever off something like this.”

“Virginity is a social construct. It doesn’t matter who I fuck for the first time or who puts a body part in me. It doesn’t fucking matter. It’s just an act.” 

“Says who?” John asked. “Don’t let anyone tell you it doesn’t matter who you share that with, Stiles. Not to mention, sentimentality aside, if you’re looking at male partners, they need to be careful. They need to know what they’re doing. You can’t just fuck whoever will say yes. I raised you to be smarter than that.”

“I don’t want to fucking die, Dad!” Stiles said. “If that means my first time isn’t the best, then I’ll get the over it and next time I’ll work on it being better. But I’m on a little bit of a time crunch here.”

“When?”

“Midnight.”

“Tonight?”

“No three months from now,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes again.

“Watch your mouth.”

“No. You’re the one who came in being a jerk. I’m not a kid anymore. If I want to do this then it actually isn’t any of your business who I do it with or why.”

“Until you bring it into my work place then _tell_ me that you’re just fucking someone because of something that may or may not be looking for virgins.”

“It is! Call Mr. Argent if you don’t believe me. Call Dr. Deaton. They all know!” Stiles said.

His voice broke toward the end and John felt like the weight of the house was on his chest. Sometimes he was the worst parent in the world to Stiles, like somehow thinking arguing was the answer when it very rarely was with Stiles and not paying attention to the fact that Stiles rarely raised his voice at him and never without a decent reason.

Stiles seemed to realize the change in his feeling, because he looked away, his face red as he rubbed the moisture from his eyes impatiently.

“Hey,” John said, going closer and squeezing the back of Stiles’s neck. “It’s going to be alright, okay?”

“How?” 

John’s chest clenched when Stiles’s lower lip trembled before he rolled it between his teeth. It always went straight to his heart and the kid never even knew it. He always acted like John getting on to him was easy and it wasn’t. It always hurt to know he was hurting Stiles’s feelings, that he was making his already poor self-esteem lower.

“We’ll figure it out, but I don’t want you doing something you’ll regret.”

“I’d just like to be alive long enough to regret it,” he said. “I don’t want to die.”

John hugged him tightly. “You’re not going to. I’d never let something happen to you.”

He had only known about this supernatural bullshit for a few months and he didn’t know which was worse, when he just thought Stiles was outgrowing wanting to be around him or knowing that his kid was constantly putting himself in danger for his friends and there was next to nothing he could do about it.

 “It’s not scared of a local cop, Dad.”  

“It should be.”

John rubbed his shoulders in slow soothing patterns. He could still feel Stiles’s ragged breathing against his chest. If he wasn’t having a panic attack he was on the verge of one.

“What can I do?” John asked against his thick dark hair. He smelled faintly of sweat like he had been worried, far more scared than anyone his age had a right to be.

“You could-,” Stiles said before he stopped. John could feel him push his lower face against his shoulder harder.

John pulled away enough to look in his eyes. It still dumbfounded him that they were the same height. Somehow his kid was grown. He didn’t know how it happened.

“I could what?”

Deep red crept up Stiles’s neck and onto his cheeks. John was there the first time Stiles’s asked Lydia Martin out in 7th grade. He hadn’t been this red then. John could feel his pulse quicken.

“You could do it,” he said. He barely looked at John before he dropped his eyes to the ground. “I’m sorry. Fuck. That’s so fucked up. Ignore that I ever said that. I’m just scared shitless and-. I don’t know. I’m not thinking straight.”

John waited until Stiles stopped mumbling. He watched every subtle change of his features. The pure humiliation, regret, fear, then settling on hopelessness. John swallowed and rubbed the back of Stiles’s neck. If Stiles was this scared something was wrong. He knew that. He’d known it from the first moment Stiles talked about since he walked in the door, but he finally let himself sink into the fear of it. Stiles was prone to overreaction on a lot of emotions, but fear wasn’t one of them.

“Is that what you want?”

Stiles stared at him for a moment before he barely nodded.

“I just, you’re not going to hurt me or-. I trust you and I’m fucking scared.”  

John stared at Stiles, but this time he didn’t look away. When he touched his cheek, Stiles stiffened before pressing into his palm.

“You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to. We can keep you safe other ways. If I have to keep you in a cell I can do that.”

“I really don’t think that would do it. If it wants me dead then it doesn’t matter,” Stiles said. “I just have to make what it wants me for void.”

John looked away from Stiles’s face, staring above his head. The thought of touching Stiles was so much less repulsive than it should be. A normal father, a healthy person, would be telling his kid how incredibly fucked up this was. Probably getting him set up with a psychiatrist’s appointment while getting as far away from him as possible.

He couldn’t do that. The threat of some creature killing Stiles was a lot less of a driving factor than it should be. The idea of keeping him away from someone who would be rough with him was the largest one, the idea of him getting an STD, or not being safe. If he thought he could just tell Stiles no, that he would take him down to the station and keep him safe, he would, but God knew that if Stiles wanted something, he would get it.

The fucked up whisperings in his head didn’t help. The ones he had actively suppressed for almost two years. Thoughts that no dad should have for their kid, but he couldn’t help them.

“What do you think would count?”

The red in Stiles’s face intensified. It made his moles seem so much darker. “I want to go all the way, so if you can’t, I get it. But I just need to be sure that it counts. If you can’t do that I’ll call someone.”

He’d call Derek. He couldn’t excuse why someone like Chris Argent touching Stiles made his stomach turn less. The man was a fucking arms dealer for God’s sake, but he couldn’t help it. Then again, maybe it was just that Chris had turned Stiles down. If Chris had actually fucked Stiles he probably would’ve had a much bigger problem with it.  

“I need alcohol,” John said, going around Stiles and toward the liquor cabinet in the dining room.

“Dad, if you don’t want to. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you. That was really fucked up-.”

“Shut up, come here, and, get a drink.”

John ignored if he was following as he took two shot glasses out and poured whiskey into both. “Get a chaser if you need it.”

He heard the fridge in the kitchen open and close before Stiles came back in with two cans of coke. He poured the shots before he covered them with his hand as Stiles reached for one.

“First, you tell me without a doubt that this is what you want, that you don’t see another option that doesn’t involve you going to sleep with whoever will agree,” he said.

The red in Stiles’s face had faded to pink. Now it increased again as he nodded. “I think this is the best option.”

“Stiles,” John said, waiting until he was looking into Stiles’s deep brown eyes. They were the same color as his father’s. “I don’t want this to change anything. I know it might, but we’re both going to do our best to not feel bad about it. You’re more important to me than anything in the world, you know that.”

“But are you okay with it?” Stiles asked.

“I wouldn’t have agreed if I wasn’t.”

Stiles barely nodded, before he did it more firmly. “Okay.”

John scooted him a shot before he picked up his own and tossed it back. He laughed when Stiles coughed, reaching for his coke while he sputtered at the burn. John cracked open his can of coke and drank before he poured two more shots. Stiles eyed it warily, a small grimace on his lips.

“You don’t have to, but it’ll help you relax,” John said, as he drank his second shot.

He laughed slightly again when Stiles grimaced at the taste of his second shot, almost as badly as he had the first. The burn tasted too good to him. He had almost forgotten what it was like before he was a mild alcoholic who had to be careful with what he drank. He wasn’t worried about ever going back to the place he’d been. Some nights he cut loose after work with more drinks than he should, but it was just to get to the point of feeling good, not to the point of blackout like the two months after Claudia.

“Okay, I’m good. That taste like shit,” Stiles said, frowning as he swished with coke.

“Good,” John said. He could feel the beginnings of the alcohol already taking affect, making him slightly warmer and more relaxed. Still at the thought of what they were planning to do, his heart beat harder. His mouth was dry.

“So do you want to go upstairs or…” Stiles trailed.

“Now or never,” John said, gesturing for Stiles to go up the stairs. John followed him up, keeping his eyes above his waist. It felt like he might vomit as nerves matted in his gut. He reminded himself again, him or Derek, a fucking werewolf that might bite him, or scratch him. Or worse, him or some random stranger that might hurt his kid, that might not appreciate that he was a wonderful little smart ass that liked to pretend he didn’t have feelings, but had a plethora of them right under the surface.

“Are you okay with my bedroom?” John asked when they reached the top.

Stiles nodded, letting him walk in front of him.

John opened his bedroom door and walked in, stripping off his watch and shoes by his dresser before he unbuckled his gunbelt and laid it on the top. He looked over his shoulder and watched Stiles toeing off his shoes. When Stiles was looking down, John slipped off his wedding ring and put it in the top drawer.

“Go ahead and take off your jeans,” John said, as he undid his pants and pushed them down.

He heard Stiles’s jeans slide down his legs to the floor. Then Stiles sat on the edge of the bed before he pulled himself back to the middle, leaning against the headboard.

It wasn’t the same mattress he and Claudia conceived him on. It wasn’t even the same mattress he had last slept with Claudia on. A few months after she was gone, he had to get rid of it. The smell of her that close was too hard. He always had dreams of her. When the mattress went, most of the dreams did too.

It was still the mattress he’d laid beside Stiles on and rubbed his back when the kid climbed into bed with him with nightmares for years after. He tried to think if he’d had any feelings like this for him then, but all he could think of was how much it had fucking gutted him that his boy was hurting and that there was nothing he could do to make it easier. He wanted his mom and she was dead. Too often, he pulled Stiles close after he fell asleep and spooned him close, like if there was an inch between what was left of their family it was too much.

Maybe he’d allowed that to go on too long. He would’ve let Stiles climb in to bed with him every night if he had wanted to. He never would’ve stopped him. When he woke up in the middle of the night and Stiles wasn’t there he wished it was okay to go down the hall and get in to bed with him instead and just keep him close.

It wasn’t that many years ago that he had been weak enough to do that. He remembered it like it was yesterday because Stiles was too old for it, but on a night shift John had worked a gun was pulled. He didn’t kill the man that was shot, but he had watched it happen as the highway patrol put a round through the man’s skull. When he walked into the house he had gone straight to Stiles’s bedroom, stripped off his over shift and laid down beside him. He still remembered Stiles mumbling when he put his arms around him and just mumbling that it was only him and to go back to sleep. When he woke up hours later it was to Stiles shaking him and holding up the bloodied shirt, demanding to know if he was hurt. Stiles had crawled back into bed and hugged him. They didn’t go to work or school that day. They barely let the other one out of their sight.

All he could think was, if he left his boy alone, what would have happened? He could see that same fear etched on Stiles’s face for days and weeks after. For a few months, he had nightmares again. Neither of them mentioned that Stiles was almost sixteen and it wasn’t okay to do anymore. John had still put his arms around Stiles after he knew he was asleep and held him as close as possible, breathing in the warm smell of his kid, healthy and alive.

“Are you not wanting to?” Stiles asked.

“No I do,” John said before he crawled onto the bed beside Stiles. The faint beat of alcohol warmed his inner ears.

It was apparently working on Stiles too, because he leaned over immediately pushing his mouth against John’s. After they kissed, Stiles jerked back like he’d been shocked.

“I’m sorry. I guess we don’t have to kiss. I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable-,” Stiles said before John pulled him closer and kissed him again.

He could taste the sweet whiskey on his breath. Then Stiles’s warm tongue was rubbing against his own and he pulled him closer. Stiles went nearly limp under him, letting him squeeze him close and only kissing back harder. John didn’t try to slow him down. The slower they went the more chance for awkwardness there was.

John shrugged off his over shirt. Stiles pulled at his sleeves until it was off and John pushed it onto the floor without breaking the kiss. Stiles ran his hands up his back from the band of his pants up his shoulders then down again.

“Do you want to leave our shirts on?” John asked.

Stiles shook his head before he started to pull John’s white t-shirt up. John leaned up enough to get it off. When it was thrown to the side, Stiles was pulling off his own shirt. John had seen him without his shirt a thousand times. There was no sharing a house with a teenage boy without that happening once or twice a week. Still it was different seeing Stiles shirtless, under him, and in his bed than seeing him going down to the laundry room to get a t-shirt out of the dryer. Then again for the last few years, he had started noticing how he was filling out, how he didn’t have the body of a boy anymore.

John ran his hand up his stomach, light enough to feel the few moles on his skin.

“I know, I need to put on some weight,” Stiles said.

John snorted, looking Stiles in the eyes. “You don’t need to do anything. You’re gorgeous, kid.”

Stiles smiled slightly. It went right to John’s dick with Stiles’s lips red and swollen. “You might be a little bias.”

“That’s okay,” John said before he leaned down again.

Stiles met him half way, sliding his arms around him again. The feel of his warm slender chest against him was almost painful. His skin was soft against his own, smooth and unmarked by overwork or time. The flares of self-consciousness started through the veil of liquor before Stiles arched his hips against his.

John pressed back down and felt Stiles’s sharp exhale against his mouth before he started to kiss down his neck. He dragged his tongue up the muscle of his throat, tasting the sweet warm salt of his skin. Hearing Stiles’s breathy little exhale was enough to make his already hard dick throb in his underwear like he was the teenager too.

He almost felt like one. It wasn’t that he hadn’t fucked anyone since Claudia died. He had. Men and women, but none of them were anything more than casual. They were never people he felt much for. Most of them were a lot younger than he had any business laying a hand on, but they were all well above the legal limit. He wasn’t in to kids. He was just in to his kid. That was more than fucked up enough for him.

But no one could blame him and he’d call them a liar if they tried. Stiles’s stupid little high school classmates were too young to appreciate what he was growing in to. It was staggering. One day he’d been an awkward adorable fifteen-year-old with a buzz cut, then he was tall and lean without being skinny, with dark hair that brought out the color of his eyes and moles on his face he got from his mom. He was just as gorgeous as she’d been and when the kids he went to school with realized it far too late, Stiles would have found someone, away at college maybe, someone who could just see him and see that he was perfect.

He wanted to go down his chest, kiss the dark moles that showed when he wore the few v-necks he had. He wanted to take his light brown nipples in his mouth and suck them until they were hard. But he made himself stop at Stiles’s collar bone, kissing him softly, running his hands over his slender body and letting Stiles start to touch his shoulders and arms, getting used to the feel of each other.

“Am I making your uncomfortable? We could just keep in to sex,” John said.

Stiles shook his head, the pink of his cheeks paired with his long eyelashes made him look so young and sweet. Which he was. He was an asshole too, but he didn’t look like it then. He looked so pure, so vulnerable. John’s throat constricted at the thought of anyone else taking advantage of that.

“No. I’m less nervous doing this,” Stiles said, gesturing at themselves.

“If I do anything you don’t want, just tell me.”

“Okay,” Stiles said.

John started to kiss his neck again, up and down until he found the most sensitive paths, stopping to lick or suck at the places that made Stiles’s jerk and squeeze his shoulders until he could feel Stiles completely hard against hip.

“I’m going to take off your underwear, okay?”

Stiles just nodded as John kept kissing him, going back to his soft chapped lips as he started to slide Stiles’s underwear down his legs until Stiles could kick them off. Then he pushed down his own, never losing contact with Stiles’s mouth, keeping his mind busy.

“We can stop anytime you want,” John said.

“Why? Do you want to?” Stiles asked.

“Just letting you know, kid. I can be right on the edge and I’ll still stop, okay? Just don’t let me keep going if it hurts.”

Stiles nodded. His face was the same shade of pink it had been since they started as he looked down between their bodies where John could feel his dick laying against Stiles’s.

“Look at me,” John said. When Stiles met his eyes, John held the back of his neck. “Promise you’ll tell me to stop if you need it.”

“Promise,” Stiles said before he leaned up and kissed John’s cheek before he wrapped his arms around him.

John hugged him back, breathing in the familiar warm smell of his boy. He couldn’t remember how Claudia smelled, but this was somehow just as comforting as he remembered breathing her in was. He had loved her so much sometimes it felt impossible to cope after she died, but this was Stiles he had never loved anything or anyone more than he loved his kid.

“Love you,” Stiles said.

“I love you too, kid,” John said, clenching his eyes closed, squeezing him, before Stiles pulled away. Then John leaned over and took a bottle of lube and a condom from his bedside table. Stiles stared at them as John laid them on the bed.

“Have you ever fingered yourself?” John asked.

Stiles nodded, his cheeks growing darker. “Yeah normally two fingers when I jack off.”

“Okay. I’m going to do that, right now. Is that alright?”

“Yeah that’s okay.”

John poured lube over his fingers, slicking two of them before he dipped between Stiles’s cheeks, feeling him jerk slightly. John stayed leaned up enough to watch Stiles’s expression as he rubbed his hole gently, warming the lube, and letting Stiles’s eyes start to get heavier-lidded and his mouth falling slightly open.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, closing his eyes with his hands braced on John’s shoulder.

John kissed his neck when he tilted back his head before he penetrated him with his first finger.

Stiles moaned softly. He could feel the vibration of it against his lips.

Then he pressed farther in until he crook up his finger. He rubbed his finger along the soft hot lining of Stiles’s body until he felt the barely there bump by a small indention. He pressed up and Stiles arched under him.

“Fuck, fuck.”

John laughed slightly, rubbing it again, and watching Stiles catch his breath as he stared at the ceiling. “Good?”

“Yeah. I can’t get to it like that,” he said, pushing back on John’s finger.

John leaned on his elbow with enough to watch Stiles as he slowly moved his finger in and out, hitting his prostate every second or third time before he slipped his second finger in. Stiles’s rim tightened and John waited for him to breathe through it before he relaxed.

“I’m not going to use another finger unless you think you need it,” John said.

“I don’t,” he said, his cheeks darkened again. “I have a vibrator.”

“Good,” John said before he poured more lube on his fingers and scissored the hole, again and again until Stiles’s rim was soft and giving. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah. I don’t to get sore,” Stiles said.

Then John leaned over and took the condom off the dark bedspread.

“You don’t have to wear one,” Stiles said.

“I still need to get my six-month test after the last time I was with someone,” John said, tearing open the wrapper and sliding it on his dick. He glanced up when Stiles was silent and saw the shocked look on his face. “I’m old, not dead.”

“You’re not even old. I just didn’t really think about you having sex with anyone,” Stiles said.

“I liked it that way,” John said as he rubbed lube on himself. With his other hand he squeezed the side of Stiles’s neck. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good.”

“When I start, push out. It’ll help. If it hurts, we can stop, or go slower.”

“I know. You’re like a broken record.”

“You little shit,” John mumbled before he rubbed his dick over Stiles’s loosened hole. The small gasp made tingles spool in his stomach. John pressed forward, using his thighs to keep Stiles’s legs up enough. Stiles’s eyes were closed. His chest was rising and falling calmly and evenly. “Deep breath, baby,” he said before he started to rock softly against Stiles’s hole. John poured more lube on himself.

“That feels good,” Stiles said with his eyes still closed and his lips parted as his breathing came a little faster.

“Good,” John said. “I’m going to push a little harder.”

“Okay,” Stiles said before he started to rock his hips just enough to press John’s cock head against his ass repeatedly in soft non-penetrating thrusts.

“I’m going to let you do it,” John said, holding himself in place and letting Stiles work his hips against him. He watched Stiles bite his lips between small pants. He was already so worked up. John wrapped his hand around Stiles’s dick and squeezed. Stiles jerked, his eyes flying open.

“That feels so good,” Stiles said, working his hips harder, trying to get John in him. John held his breath as he felt the tension of Stiles’s asshole, getting wider and wider. When the head of his dick finally popped passed the resistance of Stiles’s body, John worked his dick in his hand before he touched his face with his other hand when Stiles’s eyes flew open wide at the burn.

“It goes away, but I can pull out if you want.”

“No, it just fucking burns,” Stiles said, squeezing his eyes closed and shifting around. John caught his breath at the nearly uncomfortably tight pressure around his cock.

“Take a deep breath,” John said against his cheek as he leaned forward.

When he felt Stiles inhale he pressed farther inside. They were so wet. He could hear the sloppy noise of them from the small movement. Stiles made a small noise under his before he pulled back out barely and pushed back in. The small noise changed, still uncomfortable, but better.

“Do I need to stop?”

“It feels better. Just go slow.”

“Try to relax,” John said, as he started to shallowly fuck into him. He heard the moment he hit Stiles’s prostate. Stiles’s breathing caught as his entire body went tight. John rolled his hips and tried to hit the same place again and again. Stiles gripped his shoulder, pressing his face against his neck.

“Okay?” John asked.

Stiles nodded, keeping his face hidden against John’s shoulder. Then he started to pant with high fucked out noises. John put his arm around Stiles, holding him close enough to feel his breathing as he thrust into him, listening to his noises getting more and more broken as he tried to go deeper and faster.

“Dad,” Stiles panted against his shoulder in whine that jerked straight into John’s balls. John would’ve been worried if it wasn’t for the way Stiles was digging his fingers into his skin his nails biting into his skin. Then there were hot burning trails down his back as Stiles whined against him, flexing his hips up, getting friction against John’s stomach.

“Touch yourself,” John said, leaning away just enough to give Stiles’s room. When Stiles’s licked his palm before reaching between them, John fucked into him deeper and harder. Watching him take his own dick in his hand was hotter than he would’ve thought possible.

They had only been fucking for a handful of minutes and he could already feel the end getting close. He listened to Stiles’s breathing getting more erratic, feel his inner walls clenching and releasing as he worked his ass against John.

“Come in me,” Stiles said, looking up at him with his cheeks the sweetest sexiest shade of red. “I want to make sure it counts.”

He had planned on it, but hearing Stiles say it made John fuck him harder. Hearing Stiles’s hand working over himself brought him closer. As soon as Stiles started to come, his inner muscles clenched harder around John. It was barely painful, just enough to throw John over the edge as he felt Stiles’s first spurts of cum against his stomach. He squeezed Stiles as close as he could, feeling his slick hand working against his skin then the hot skin of his dick against him from the friction of his palm. He hated the condom that was keeping him from coming as deeply in Stiles as he could. He wanted Stiles to feel it. He wanted to know it was there.

As he came down, he realized he was still laying on top of Stiles. Then he realized that Stiles’s arms were around him and their legs were still tangled together. When he pulled away, he saw Stiles’s eyes were closed. John kissed his face softly, near his chapped lips.

John pulled out of Stiles the last small bit and took off his condom, leaning over to lay it on his shirt. Stiles was still passed out. John kissed his cheek against before running his fingers through his thick hair.

“Come on, get cleaned up, buddy,” he said.

Stiles’s eyes barely opened before he was squeezing John close. John dragged his nose up his cheek, holding the other side of his face. For a moment, he thought Stiles had gone back to sleep before he felt him nuzzle against his jaw, pressing against his neck.

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too. More than anything.”

Stiles kissed him and John kissed him back, softly. It went from their lips being loose to their tongues touching again and the low thrum of arousal stirring in John’s stomach again before he pulled away.

Stiles smiled. His little arrogant smile.

“Probably better than if I’d called Derek.”

“Thanks for the confidence, kid,” John said.

“I said probably, don’t be so sensitive,” Stiles said.

John snorted before he kissed Stiles’s cheek again and pushed himself up from the bed. He was terrified of leaving it, but he tried not to show it as he grabbed the condom and threw it in the master bathroom trash. He took his time cleaning up and when he came out Stiles wasn’t in the bed. He could hear the shower down the hall running.

As he dressed, John kept his heartbeat steady. There was no reason to think that Stiles would feel anything negative if he wasn’t feeling anything negative. Still, he was on the verge of panic as he walked out of his bedroom after he dressed.

Stiles’s bathroom door was open. He leaned in the doorway as John started to pass, cleaning out his ears.

“So since I’m not going to die, can we go get pizza or something? I’m starving.”

John snorted. His fear disappearing at the look of Stiles’s very normal smile on his face. “Sure. I guess that deserves pizza.”

“Sweet,” Stiles said, throwing his q-tip in the trash before pulling a t-shirt onto his still damp skin and hurrying into his room like he was never fed and he may never eat again. John couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he went down the stairs to wait on him. 

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a series.


End file.
